


Sleeping With The Enemy ( Kinktober )

by TeaBeast



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Begging, Choking, Collar/leash, Collars, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Hate fucking, M/M, Making Out In Public, Mild Threat, Pushy Troy Calypso, Rhys hates how hot Troy is, Spanking, Stalking, Suit Kink, Troy knows exactly how hot he is, dub con, formal wear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 17:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaBeast/pseuds/TeaBeast
Summary: “Oh come oooon, Rhys! I'm not gonna do anything to you! I can't, remember? And why would I both ruin a good thing and bring my sister's wrath down on me, huh? Our first time here, gotta be on our best behaviour.”His grin widened further showing the gold canines.“I'll be a good boy, I promise~”______________________________________________Days 6 and 7 of Kinktober: Formal Wear and Dubious Consent





	Sleeping With The Enemy ( Kinktober )

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uglyNicc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyNicc/gifts).

It had all started with a challenge. Stupid. Petty. And very _Troy_. Something that Rhys felt he was absolutely above and really he _should_ have been. He had given such an air of superiority and acted holier than thou to the point where he was sure he'd masked his true desires. But the look Troy had given him ( and continued to give him each and every time Rhys turned down his advances ) told Rhys that the cult leader didn't believe his protests.

“Come _ooooon!_ What's wrong, huh? You _scared?_”

“_Scared?_”

Rhys had scoffed, lip curled in disgust and long nimble fingers plucked invisible lint from his shirt. Chasing down creases and adjusting his tie.

“And what exactly am I supposed to be scared of, huh?”

“How much you'll like it~”

The wide grin Troy had given him exposed gold coated canines which only served to make the expression all the more sleazy. Rhys had found himself shifting from one foot to the other under the heated gaze of the man he should just walk away from. Maybe get his soldiers to chase him off. The Atlas CEO himself was armed and would fire if necessary to defend himself but... Rhys felt that commanding an army to do it for you gave a sense of power. Really struck fear into the hearts of your would be enemies.

That and he didn't want to risk damaging his clothing. Most of his items were dryclean only and he really didn't have time for that extra set of chores right now.

“How much I'll like rolling around in the dirt with a filthy _parasite_ cult leader. Yeah. Sure. You just keep telling yourself that. I have _better_ things to do.”

There was a flicker of anger in Troy's eyes. Something that Rhys at that exact moment realised he shouldn't have messed with. As much as he'd love to be able to talk a big game, he'd never really been that good at smack talk. Or he was too good and he cut too deep. There was never any inbetween. Troy licked his teeth with a vicious little smirk and shrugged his shoulders.

“Only friends and family get to call me _Parasite_. And since you're neither, _maaaybe_ back the fuck off, hot stuff. _Unleeeeess_ you wanna spend a few hours with me seeing if we can break the bedsprings.... Then you can call me whatever you want~”

There was no answer that Rhys could give that wouldn't completely expose him and force him to admit that _yes._.. Getting pounded by this terrible _terrible_ man was exactly what he wanted. If someone had _dared _to tell him that he had a type, he'd have laughed at them and side-stepped the subject. But really...? He _absolutely_ had a type. Terrible people who could snap him like a twig? Rhys was absolutely _there_ for that party.

Right now he needed to get to that side-stepping and get away from Troy. Get away from the way he looked at him like he was _repeatedly _undressing him with his eyes. Like he was imagining how it would feel to push inside him _deep_ and feel how tight he was around his...

_Ok... Ok... Leaving now... Leaving... And we're going to stop that train of thought right the fuck there..._

“Be seeing you, Strongfork... Me and you... Think about it...”

It was the yearly Ammunitions Gala hosted by Marcus. Everyone who was anyone in the weaponry business was there to show off their new designs for the coming year and drum up a bit of friendly rivalry between the assorted companies. It was Rhys' third year of attendance and the first time he really felt like he belonged there.

Atlas had come along in leaps and bounds since that first year he'd received his invitation and had strode in with his head held high. No longer was he the skittish new comer with only one gun design to his name ( which had admittedly been ripped off an old Hyperion design and sort of... Jazzed up a bit ) he was a fully fledged CEO with an exciting and innovative business at his back. Atlas was now a force to be reckoned with and finally _finally _Rhys felt he could say he had as much right to be there as anyone else.

He'd just managed to side-step Katagawa Jr ( what the hell was with that guy? Freakin fanboy... ) and grab himself a glass of champagne when an uneasy hush fell over the gathered CEO's.

“Oh don't stop your yammering on _our_ account! You keep right on _schmoozing,_ you crazy kids!”

Rhys slowly turned around to see Tyreen Calypso striding in on dagger heels ( no really, the heel was a god-damn knife ) and looking dressed to kill in a little black dress. But it wasn't the God Queen who caused Rhys' breath to catch in his throat.

Troy cleaned up better than Rhys could have ever imagined. Black suit tailored to hug his form and show off his toned, slender body. Buttons of cut and polished red gems to match his tattoos and red polished dress shoes. It should have looked too much. It was ostentatious. It was disgustingly attractive.

The Atlas CEO hated how much he was staring. Hated that it was Troy Calypso of all fucking people who had turned his head. But thankfully his train of thought was interrupted by Torgue bellowing.

“**WHO THE FUCK LET THOSE GUYS IN?”**

Tyreen gave a shark-like smile and produced an immaculate invitation from a Skag bone purse.

“Where did you think all those COV branded guns came from, hmmm? Did you think they just fell out of the sky?”

“Yeah! We're CEO's baby!”

Rhys blinked owlishly at the twins. CEO's? Could they really be CEO's? Well... When you thought about it... It made sense... Their guns weren't exactly the best on the market but... They existed and they were being sold.

It was Marcus who then came forward and raised his hands in a bid for silence.

“The Calypso Twins are the CEO's of COV Guns and therefore have as much right as anyone as anyone else to be here. They have agreed to the rules of the Gala, no fighting, no killing and no funny business. If they break the rules, they are out.”

A stern look.

"That goes for everyone here, as well you know.”

The assorted CEO's murmured their disapproval, but Marcus was right and the host of the gala, his rule was law. So caught up in Marcus' speech (really the man could command any room ) Rhys hadn't noticed that Troy had taken the chance to sidle up next to him.

“I've been at this _shitstain_ of a party for two whole minutes and already I'm _bored_.”

Rhys sucked his teeth before casting the taller man a look of utter disdain. It was the only thing he could do to stop the building lust to show through his eyes. They stood together and watched as Tyreen sashayed through the large ballroom like a queen holding court.

“You know you could always _leave_. No one actually wants you here anyway.”

A low snickering chuckle from Troy and he raised an eyebrow at Rhys who was still pointedly not looking at him. Which just meant that the cult leader could take in the leggy twink in all his glory. All in black with gold accents and hair styled just so; he looked like he should be in some high end fashion magazine rather than stuck at this party with all these ( in Troy's not so humble opinion ) stuffy, boring, old business men.

“Mr Rhys Strongfork! _Flirting_ with me in front of all these people! You gonna pull my pigtails next?”

That got Rhys to turn and look at him. He almost considered tossing his drink in Troy's face, but that would probably break the rules of the gala. Instead he gave the most disgusted look he could possibly muster. Rhys took in Troy's entire form from the top of his stupid hair to the tips of his ridiculous shoes. He licked his teeth in frustration and leaned in, words flitted between them on a venomous hiss.

“You're only here because of a _fucking _loophole. No-one here believes that COV Guns is an _actual_ company or that you're CEO's or that your guns are any fucking _good!_”

_Yes_. That felt good. It felt good to be able to spit words of spite and bile and know that he could get away with it. Sure, once they were out of the bubble of the party it would be a different story and Rhys would probably have to hire extra security just to feel safe going to the bathroom. But right now he could act like a total badass. Right now... He felt almost as powerful as the late, great Handsome Jack.

Troy cocked his head to one side; eyes narrowed as he watched the barely tapped fury unfurl and bloom from Rhys. A step forwards and there was barely an inch spare between them. For a moment it looked like he might grab him. Crush him in that horrifyingly large metal arm. Instead he gave the Atlas CEO a little nudge in the same direction in which he was gesturing with his head.

“Come with me, Atlas... I wanna show you something.”

What? That was it? _That was it?_ Rhys had given Troy his best vicious, cutthroat business man realness and all he got in return was, _I wanna show you something?_ Not even the slightest, teeniest tiniest show of nerves? **_Nothing?_**

“Ohhh oh oh no! I'm not going anywhere with you, _sunshine!_ You're going to drag me off into some dark corner and kill me! And then dump my body in the punch bowl! I'm not letting that happen!”

Troy rolled his eyes at Rhys and let out a snickering breath. He moved ever closer, causing the other man to take several steps back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. The cult leader was practically herding Rhys towards a secluded door in a darkened corner.

“Oh come _oooon_, Rhys! I'm not gonna do anything to you! I can't, remember? And why would I both ruin a good thing and bring my sister's wrath down on me, huh? Our first time here, gotta be on our best behaviour.”

His grin widened further showing the gold canines.

“I'll be a good boy, I promise~”

Rhys did not think for one second that Troy would be anything close to good. But people were starting to look over and murmur about what could be going on between the pair. The Atlas CEO didn't particularly want anyone starting any rumours so... He guessed it would be for the best if he just... Went with the cult leader. For now. In his mind, whatever Troy needed to say or show him could be done out in the open... But...

“Fine... _Fine..._ This room here? _Sure_.”

Troy didn't answer, just grinned and nodded as Rhys opened the door and stepped inside. Rhys frowned as he stared into darkness; he stepped further inside and his shins hit something hard and he stumbled.

“_Ow!_ What the fu...?!”

The former Company Man didn't manage to get any more words out as he was roughly shoved inside the storage cupboard. He heard the door slam shut and was about to yell foul when he was grabbed and shoved against the door _hard. _A thick, heavy metal forearm pressed against his chest, trapping him against the wall. Troy's other hand gripped his chin and forced Rhys to look up at him.

“Alone at last...”

“Are you fucking _kidding me _right now?”

As much as he wanted his voice to boom out with strength and conviction, it ended up as a high pitched rasp. A fucking storage closet? Troy had tricked him into holing up in a god-damn storage closet??? How many people saw them come in here? Did they know? Did they now think they were doing something... _Unprofessional?_

He didn't have much more time to think about his predicament as Troy slid his knee between Rhys' thighs. His hand tightened on the other man's chin and forced his head slightly to the side. Troy lowered his head, his massive form caged Rhys in and he could feel the Atlas CEO trembling against him. Something that Rhys was horrified at. What was worse, he could feel his groin tighten and his breath hitch as Troy dragged his tongue across his pulse.

“_Naaah_.... I think it's _you_ who's kidding, Atlas... Keep _kidding_ yourself that you don't want _alllll_ of this. I mean... _Come on_... You have _eyes_, right?”

It took a moment for Rhys to realise that his hands were pressed to Troy's shoulders. Nails digging into the fabric of the expensive suit. The cult leader was so close that Rhys could smell his cologne. Sweet spices, leather and gunsmoke. Even the spray in his stupid hair smelled good. Rhys was definitely half hard and the risk of sporting a full erection got ever closer as Troy raised his knee higher and ground his thigh against Rhys' groin. A shivery little moan escaped his lips as sharp teeth grazed his jawline. Nails dug into Troy's shoulders harder as he felt the other man grin against his skin. A dark chuckle sent shivers down his spine.

“_Stop..._”

“I don't think you want me to do that...”

“Get off me, Troy... _I don't want you._”

That caused Troy to freeze. His body stock still. The only sound between them was Rhys' ragged breath. He wouldn't harm him over turning him down, would he...?

The way Troy looked at him then made his stomach drop. All humour had vanished from his eyes leaving them cold. Everyone wanted him.... So why.....?

“You will.”

The words were verging on a feral growl as Troy opened the door and shoved Rhys out.

**Author's Note:**

> Uglynicc is a terrible influence and I adore her.


End file.
